


Mask Maker

by devastating



Series: Sylvix Week 2020 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mentioned Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Oh yeah Glenn dies in this fic, Pining, Sylvain drinks in one sentence, Sylvain is dramatic, Sylvix Week 2020, no beta we die like Glenn, post academy phase, you can say this is canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26591236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devastating/pseuds/devastating
Summary: “Some masks were better crafted than others and that was just something that many were aware of. Mask makers took years, decades, to perfect their craft. Making a mask is easy, but making a mask that properly fooled others, that was something that not many could claim they could do.For tonight’s masquerade, the Gautier heir made sure to commission the best mask maker in Faerghus.”~ ♡ ~During the masquerade ball Sylvain decides to hide himself from Felix |Sylvix Week Day 2: Pining
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Sylvix Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933273
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Mask Maker

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 was by far the easiest one for me to write because Sylvain Jose Gautier pining? Always. Boy only knows how to do that and how to do that messily and dramatic

Masks. That had to be Sylvain’s favorite thing. The intricate artistry that had to take place to make the perfect mask was something that he had come to admire in more ways than one. Velvet masks, porcelain masks, even paper masks were all made with a goal in mind that most succeeded in doing, it was very hard not to get them to do their intended purpose. Even still. Some masks were better crafted than others and that was just something that many were aware of. Mask makers took years, decades, to perfect their craft. Making a mask is easy, but making a mask that properly fooled others, that was something that not many could claim they could do. 

For tonight’s masquerade, the Gautier heir made sure to commission the best mask maker in Faerghus. 

The masquerade was meant to be a grand affair, one to celebrate the coming winter, the final party of the year. Lavished in riches and feasts, nobles throughout the entirety of Faerghus all came for this one occasion. The masks were not mandatory but this was the one night where every noble could get rid of their statuses, their reputation, and be free. That is of course, if they had the proper masks. 

Masks covered your face, most covered your expressions, but only the perfect masks hide your lies. 

He had always been one to like parties, the music, the art, the drunken way that others behaved. Love was ever in the air and he alone, had become addicted to it. He was a social creature, a loving creature. He loved with his entire being and he yearned for others more than even he could comprehend. He thrived off of attention and he preened under the flowery language that was often thrown his way. That was of course, not to be mistaken with desire. 

Many believed that the Gautier heir had fallen to the clutches of lust but failed to realize that that was not the deadly sin that had hollowed his bones. 

Greed. 

Be it his own or others. Greed had always laid a mark onto his skin. He was a lover, a man that desired, no, needed to love and be loved in return. However he was not the kind of man that was ever satisfied with the love that was already being given to him. No, he wanted more. To be drowned in it, to be suffocated by it. He was a lover and he thrived off of attention, it was a deadly concoction. 

Even deadlier however, were those who fell for the temptation that was Sylvain Jose Gautier. What may have started at first as simple friendliness, a small kiss on the hand, a shy smile on the face, soon changed over time. Greed was an infectious disease. Sylvain’s love was never enough for those who took the bait, they needed more. Statues. Wealth. Power. They needed to slice into Sylvain’s heart and bleed him dry for everything he was worth and more. 

In a matter of seconds, Greed took the souls of two. 

That was why he commissioned the mask that he had, that was why he had waited patiently all year for this very moment. For the chance to finally get what he wanted without the others falling into temptation. 

The mask he wore now was breathtaking. 

Made from both clay and gold. Where he would usually have been tempted to go with vivid colors, he went with muted ones instead, after all, this was a night to transform oneself completely. Earth toned oranges, browns, and whites. The clay modeled and sculpted to represent the only thing he could have thought of: a fox. There was something poetic to disguise oneself as a fox when you had the kind of intentions that Sylvain did. The mask was big enough that it not only hid his eyes, but everything but his jawline, even his smile would stay hidden beneath the mask. 

Then there was of course, the artist touch that Sylvain had given the mask maker complete free reign over. This was represented in the long pointed ears, almost horn-like in their design and the red furred cloak that would disguise his crimson red hair. The cloak, however was thin, thin enough that it looked more like satin than fur and it hung over his body in a way that looked both like a cloak but also a gown. Long flowing sleeves were attached to the cloak that caused Sylvain to look more ethereal than noble. Gold trimmings lined both the mask and the cloak, the intricate curves and lines mimicked fur on the mask and soft beaded crystals hung on the edges of the cloak. 

It was perfect. 

He adjusted his mask one last time before the doors of the ballroom opened and Sylvain was met with the most beautiful scene he had ever seen. An array of the most breathtaking colors and gowns that were more luxurious than the last. The music was loud and his ears rang with the laugher that filled the space. The festivities had already begun in the time it took for him to get ready so no one took notice of him entering the room; he couldn’t help the grin that split his face in half. 

He let himself be distracted for only a few minutes, enjoyed the attention of those who asked him to dance and thrived off the way everyone’s eyes stayed glued to him. Even with his identity hidden, he lured those who yearned for love. However, tonight he had a goal in mind, a specific mission that he had set himself to do. He could not fail above everything else for tonight was the only time that he could ever take this risk. 

His eyes scanned the ballroom for the familiar hue of blue. Even among all the masks and obscure identities, his eyes did not fail him in finding the man. Even with the simple and plain navy and silver mask that the man wore, Sylvain spotted him almost immediately:

Felix Hugo Fraldarius. 

Sylvain would claim that it was that man alone that had made him fall from grace and be Greed’s most faithful companion. 

He had once been fine with the love that was thrown at him, had become accustomed to the things that he had and accepted that with a willing heart, that was of course, until he met him. It has been years since that fateful day, years since Sylvain had learned what it actually meant to _yearn_. What started out as a simple childhood friend soon turned to a sickening obsession. Every moon Sylvain cried for him, drowned in him. The mere mention of the man's name was enough to cause a stutter in his heart. 

He could have whoever he wanted, so of course he wanted the one man that never wanted him in return. 

There were many reasons why over the years he had grown cruel and bitter, but even to this day he knew that there was only one man responsible for the desperation in his heart. Only one man was responsible for the never ending thirst that he felt every waking second. And that man did not love him back. 

At one point he could have humored the thought of Felix loving him, of feeling the same heart wrenching desire for him. That idea died in the Tragedy, now all that remains of the man that he loved was a cold and deadly husk of a man. Every word that the man spoke was laced with poison and every glare stabbed him right through his heart, gutted him and bled him dry. Felix Hugo Fraldarius was not the kind of my man that anyone should love, and so Greed made him fall for the man nonetheless. 

He carefully made his way to the younger man, making sure not to catch anyone else’s eyes until he was leaning up against the wall besides him. He had to stifle the laugh that threatened to fall from his lips and the utter lack of care that Felix was showing about not just the party but his appearance. Sylvain could guess that the man most likely paid for the cheapest mask he found, barely a small thing that covered his eyes. His own hair was pulled into his usual bun, though more firmly secured and with a navy ribbon instead of the usual old and ragged black ribbon the man often used. 

He smiled, adjusting his voice so that it was lower than usual, “care for a dance?” He turned and extended his hand out to the man. 

Immediately Felix glared at him, most likely having assumed that standing so far off to the side would exempt him from being asked to dance; of course, he did not take Sylvain into account. “I don’t dance.” 

Sylvain let himself chuckle lightly before shifting his weight onto one foot, “it’s a ball. You mean to tell me you’re just going to stand here for the entire night?” He leaned closer to the man. “It’s just one dance,” he swallowed and decided to take a chance, “or do you not know how?” 

Felix to the bait, immediately grabbing his hand and yanking how out to the dance floor, mumbling mild threats under his breath. Before Sylvain could ask, the redhead found a hand on his waist and another holding his own hand, Felix left no room for doubt: he would be the one leading. 

He grinned, putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder and then let himself get lost in the sensation of being in Felix’s arms even if it was for just one song. The song was a somber one, one that he could remember dancing to many years ago, somber and still fast in tempo that mimicked the way Sylvain heart beat with each touch that Felix gave him. He let himself sway in Felix’s arms, followed the younger man's feet and mirrored everything that Felix did. They were in sync with one another to the point that Sylvain would not be surprised if his heartbeat matched Felix’s. For one peaceful moment, Sylvain was in bliss. The yearning in his heart was sated and he could not help the smile that was now carved brutally into his face. 

And then the song stopped and Felix’s hand was no longer on his hip as the younger man pulled away. Greed bared it’s ugly teeth then as Sylvain clutched onto the man's hand tighter, desperation forcing him to pull it closer to him. His blood slowly spilled onto the ballroom floor as he tipped down and laid a single kiss on the man's hand. It burned, not a day would go by that Sylvain would think about the feeling of Felix’s skin on his lips and instantly he knew that there would never be any returning from this. 

He chuckled despite the stuttering of his heart, “I thank you sir, for that dance.” Not waiting for a response, the redhead turned around and found a partner in a yellow and bronze mask. Their attention would have to suffice for now he thought as he was led back into the dance floor. His skin did not burn the way it did before, and the hollowness in his bones returned tenfold but that was fine. This was a sensation that he had grown to be accustomed to for many years now. His smile grew more tense as the seconds passed by and Felix’s skin haunted his lips even after he fell to the temptation of alcohol. He made a mistake by kissing him, one that he knew he would suffer for years to come. 

He sighed, walking out of the ballroom and to the fresh snow covered garden. The harsh cold air felt like both agony and bliss on his skin. He had always run hot even as a child, but even with that, Faerghan snow was not something to take lightly. He knew that his time outside would have to be cut short just for his fingers sake. Even still, he found himself looking up to the moon and letting the muffled music behind him lull him into a sense of serenity, a safe haven for his whirling thoughts. 

“It’s not like you to have to take a step outside.” 

His heart stopped in that second, the rich velvet voice grabbing his chest and crushing the air out of him. He breathed out shakily as he turned to look behind him, golden eyes met honey and he could only suppress the shiver that desperately wished to travel down his back. “Not like me?” His tongue felt foreign in his own mouth. 

Felix scoffed, making no show in taking his mask off and then walking over to him. Sylvain could only hold his breath as he watched Felix close the distance between them. Then fingers carefully graced his jawline as Felix lifted his mask off his face, the man’s face showed no sign of shock and Sylvain would laugh if it wasn't for the fact that he had stopped knowing how to breathe. His eyes were glued on the curve of Felix’s nose, the faint blush from the cold on the tip and the way that his eyelashes seemed to brush ever so slightly against his cheeks. 

“You’re an idiot if you didn’t think I would recognize you” Felix rolled his eyes, snapping Sylvain out of his trance. 

The redhead chuckled, a tense and nervous little thing, before taking a step back from the man. “Aw come on Fe, no one, not even Ingrid has recognized me!” 

Felix huffed, “you say that as if it’s supposed to mean anything. You must be even more of an idiot if you think that a mask is enough for me to not know who you are.” 

Blunt, piercing, and yet Sylvain knew that deep down this meant that on some level, Felix cared enough to recognize him. To memorize the shape of his body and the way he carried himself. To be able to see this great maned wolf and still see the redhead that hid beneath the disguise. 

“I spent all of this money to hide myself and you’re telling me you figured me out” he sighed dramatically. “You’re no fun Felix.” 

Felix’s lips twitched slightly before the man shook his head and looked down at the mask, inspecting it and giving it a nod of approval. “You spent too much money on this.” 

“Clearly I didn’t spend enough if you figured me out” Sylvain shrugged before taking the mask back from Felix. 

“Why bother anyways? Thought that you weren’t the kind of person to hide anything” Felix crossed his arms across his chest. “Or do you have any secrets I’m not aware of Gautier?” 

He chuckled, bright and loud before smiling at the man. “Never Felix. There’s not a single thing that I can hide from you after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Go yell at me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/wrathiess)


End file.
